


Morning

by QCumberShaw



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, PWP, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QCumberShaw/pseuds/QCumberShaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, a short little thing. It coiled around my mind as I was trying to sleep. Just smut. As I've been very virutous recently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

He turns as his consciousness breaks, the awareness of wakefulness slips into his mind as he tries to ignore it. But too late. The hard warmth against his shoulder, gives pause to his reticence and he continues the forward motion, pressing against the mass, his eyes still closed as they mesh together. He feels a hand slide over his waist and a breath over his cheek as he turns his head, seeking a mouth, finding it. The taste of last night’s meal melds with the staleness of breath from lungs barely exercised, garlic and saliva, yeasty from it’s overnight slumber and it is delicious. He swallows as their tongues begin to move, the motions allowing their salivary glands to waken as he presses forward, wanting to feel the length of his torso, a leg wrapping over his hip.

 

The coil of warmth in his abdomen leaps and he presses harder, their tongues are still, tasting each other, before exploring again, as through unchartered territory, each flick exposing something new. Then his mouth is empty as he pulls away, he feels his tongue tracing a path down his neck, pausing along his chest to suck at his nipples. His breath is hot, so they shouldn’t harden, but they do, as he sucks. He restrains his hips as his tongue slides along the dip, the ticklish spot he knows so well, but, the touch is firm and he allows the tremor to subside. The hot, wet sensation as his mouth envelops his cock, proves too much and he bucks forward, hands finding the short, coarse hair of his head.

 

His breathing is deeper, hips setting up a gentle rhythm as he tightens his eyes shut, head back, then he moans as the tongue moves down, hot and wet, a broad sweep that presses into him, it is unrelenting, his legs part, inviting him in and his hips roll forward to meet it. His arms slide down his torso and pull his hips up, inviting him to turn and a few short movements has his hips against his mouth.

 

He inhales, the deep, warm musk is intoxicating, his nose burrows into the flesh, the soft, coarse hair, licking and sucking at the tender skin as his tongue builds up a heat under his mouth. He takes his cock in his mouth, the stale, harsh, ammonia of the last night persists, along with a slight sticky, dried film, which he soon removes as he sucks. The fresh tang on his tongue is sudden and he brings his fingers along his length, the ribbed notches of his veins contrast with the smooth skin, moist where his tongue has been. He wets his fingers, allowing the saliva to drip and run down the tips onto his cock, before sliding between his legs, finding the soft rim of muscle. His legs part as he slides a finger in, rubbing the rim, circling, teasing, then pushing, in, out, then another as he feels him push back welcoming it. His cock is hard and full in his mouth and the fingers in his arse are insistent, filling him and he pushes forward, his cock pressing against his throat, the occasional friction enough, but then, dissipating, so he rocks back onto his tongue and fingers, wanting more.

 

 

He pulls his fingers out, licking them to wet them, the taste is acrid, wrong and he wants more, he releases his cock and moves up to lick him, taste him, the fetid dark odour not enough. He’d been gone, presumed dead and he needed everything from him, there was nothing that was abhorrent about his flesh.  
He penetrated him with his tongue, his fingers, as his cock pressed against his throat, felt the wet heat of his mouth on his cock, the fingers fucking his arse, he need to taste him, fuck him, fill him, be filled and still it wouldn’t be enough. He stilled as his abdomen stiffened, the tightness of his balls relaxed as he felt his orgasm course over him, the swallow of his mouth, tongue licking him, then the rhythmic squeeze of muscle around his fingers and the hard push of his cock on his neck and the warm splashes over his chest. His body uncoils and slides downwards, the slide of moisture on his chest, easing his movement, before rolling onto his back as he turned and moved up, licking and sucking softly as they regained their breath. They kiss and taste each other as the coil of warmth spreads again, into his mind this time, then he pulls back and he blinks his eyes open, focussing on the face of his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> I realised, some while after I had posted, that the POV is not explicit and I was going to edit to make it more obvious, but while I know who I wrote, I decided against, as I think it could work for either of them. I'll add it to the notes if you wish. (Intrigued as to what voice people read it in).


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